


The Questionable Survival Skills of Dean Winchester

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hypothermia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this hunt, they were going on what Sam optimistically called an adventure, and Dean called tromping around in rain and misery. Of course, nothing goes according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Questionable Survival Skills of Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fangornian and songofthemorning on tumblr, who prompted me with hypothermia/cuddling. Enjoy~

“I didn’t think there even were wendigoes around here anymore,” grumbled Dean, glaring at the borrowed backcountry map they had spread out on the table. This motel room wasn’t any nicer than any other they’d stayed in over the years, with its faded, dated wallpaper and questionably stained sheets, but they weren’t planning on spending much time in it. For this hunt, they were going on what Sam optimistically called an _adventure_ , and Dean called tromping around in rain and misery.  
  
“Well, I guess there must be. Five hikers have disappeared in the last three months. I mean, it could be a black dog or something, but we have to assume wendigo. Remember the first time we hunted a wendigo and we had to kill it with flare guns because we didn’t think to bring a flamethrower?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me. I don’t ever wanna do that again,” shuddered Dean. “This time, I’m bringing two flamethrowers. Just to be thorough.” As badass as he’d felt for coming up with the flare gun thing, he had no desire to repeat that particular stunt.  
  
“Thorough? You?” laughed Sam, and Dean made a face at him.  
  
“All right anyways, look, here’s the plan. We should split up and canvas the area for signs of its hidey-hole.” He pointed at the places he’d marked on the map. “The ranger I talked to said there were some old mine shafts and abandoned logging camps in these places. If we split up, we can cover them faster.”  
  
“And if one of us gets snatched?” asked Sam. Dean shrugged.  
  
“Well, we’ll have covered about half of the possible evil monster lairs on the grid, so that’s a start,” he said.  
  
“Great,” said Sam. “Guess I’ll just try not to get eaten, then.”  
  
“That’s the plan, Sammy,” said Dean, clapping him on the shoulder and hefting up his backpack.  
  
\--  
  
It had been a long goddamn night; they’d been out in the mountains for hours. Dean had been hoping that they wouldn’t have to spend the night out in the wilderness, but it was looking less and less likely the later it got. He’d only canvassed half of the sites he’d designated to himself, and it was already starting to get dark. He sighed, and watched his breath mist out in front of him. Great. With his luck, it would start snowing.  
  
And then it did.  
  
\--  
  
Sam looked up at the sky through the trees and sighed. Snow. Great. Just what he needed – something to make the footing out here slicker than it already was. He checked his map again, and was disappointed to see that he still had quite a bit of ground to cover.  
  
He made his way carefully through the roots and underbrush, eventually pulling out a flashlight. It’d been so long since they’d done a wilderness hunt that he’d forgotten how quickly it got dark in the forest once the sun went down. He’d really been hoping that they wouldn’t have to spend the night out here.  
  
Sam found that he had an entirely different set of concerns when he pushed through the underbrush into a clearing only to see several brightly colored tents and a crude firepit.  
  
Shit. There were people out here. Who the hell went out on a mountain in this kind of weather when hikers had been disappearing, anyways? No one with a sense of self-preservation.  
  
He took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. If he was rude, there was no way that they’d listen to him.  
  
“Uh, excuse me?” he called out into the clearing. The remains of a fire were still smoking halfheartedly, so clearly there were people here. Or so he hoped. A few moments later, he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper and a bespectacled woman stuck her head out of the tent closest to him.  
  
“Hello?” she said, her voice wavering in a way that made it clear she was nervous. “Who are you?”  
  
“I’m, uh, I’m a park ranger,” replied Sam. “We’ve been looking for a bear up in these parts. Big vicious one. It’s been taking campers. I’ve been, uh, surveying the area, but we’re advising people to leave when we come across them.”  
  
“Oh,” she narrowed her eyes, taking in his appearance somewhat suspiciously. “Can I see your credentials?”  
  
Sam cursed her mentally as he had to undo his jacket to pull his badge out of the inner pocket. It was freakin’ cold out.  
  
“Sure, ma’am,” he said, flipping the badge open to show her. She inspected it for a moment, and then nodded.  
  
“So, you want us to pack up and leave?” she said, looking reluctant. Sam sighed.  
  
“Well, I have to stay out here overnight anyways, at this point. I could stay with you. I’m armed, so if the bear were to come across us, it wouldn’t be an issue.”  
The woman eyed him for a moment. Sam held up his hands in a placating gesture.  
  
“I have my own tent and everything. I’ll just set it up over here, if that’s okay?”  
  
She still looked reluctant, but consented, and Sam went to work pitching his tent. It started snowing more heavily, and he hoped that he could get it set up before he was cold _and_ wet.  
  
\--  
  
There had been a time when Dean had missed wilderness hunts. There was something cathartic about walking through the trees with no signs of civilization for miles. But that was another time, when he didn’t have blisters on both feet. Dean was cursing everything in existence as he stumbled through the undergrowth and tripped on roots. He had been walking for entirely too long, but it was getting dark and he had yet to find a suitable place to make camp.  
  
When he saw an opening in the trees, it was like finding an oasis in a desert. The clearing was lightly dusted in snow, but it was blessedly free of any gnarly brush or roots to make his life miserable. Ideally, he could hurry and have his tent set up before he was both cold _and_ wet.  
  
Dean realized that he had miscalculated in a huge way when he was a few paces into the clearing and suddenly what he’d thought was stable ground cracked loudly and gave out beneath him. He fell forward, sputtering, into the icy, muddy water of a small pond.  
  
Fortunately for him, it was quite shallow and he had no trouble scrambling back out of it, but the damage was done. His coat was soaked clean through – he knew he should have bought a waterproof one – and he still didn’t have a place to set up camp. This was bad. Really bad. He was so cold it hurt, and he allowed himself a minute to be scared. Monsters he could handle, but the cold wasn’t something he could just fight off.  
  
Teeth chattering, he stuffed his fingers in his damp pockets in a futile attempt to warm them up and cautiously skirted the edges of the pond. He would have to keep moving until he found somewhere he could actually set up a tent. And then he would climb into his blankets and never come back out.  
  
It occurred to him that he should probably try to find Sam – that neither of them should be spending the night alone in the woods with a wendigo on the loose – but when he finally forced his uncooperative fingers to pull his phone from his jacket pocket, he was met with an unpleasant surprise. Although his phone was miraculously still dry enough to function, he had no service. Goddamn.  
  
Well, then. Only one thing left to do – set up camp on his own, and try not to die.

  


That plan went great for a while, except for the part where he was soaked and it was still snowing. Dean didn’t even realize how fatigued he was until he tripped on a tree root, fell hard, and didn’t get back up.  
  
His brain knew that he needed to get up, so he tried. He really did. He almost succeeded, too, taking a few staggering steps before he fell back down again.  
  
Well then. That settled it. He’d be spending the night here.  
  
Painfully, he dragged himself over to the nearest tree trunk and propped himself up against it, even having the presence of mind to fumble with the clasps on his backpack until he’d dislodged his sleeping bag, which he draped over himself.  
  
“Great,” he mumbled. “Just great.” He tucked his fingers in between his thighs, the warmest place he could think to put them. As an afterthought, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket again. He could barely focus on the screen.  
  
No service still. Damn.  
  
\--  
  
When Cas heard Dean’s faint, halting prayers, he smothered the fear that spiked in his chest and immediately flew to the motel room where he and Sam had been staying. He couldn’t pinpoint Dean’s location any further, thanks to the sigils on his ribs – it wasn’t the first time Cas had cursed those sigils, but he still felt that it was unwise to remove them.  
  
The motel room was, unsurprisingly, vacant. Logically, Cas had expected this. Dean’s prayers, if you could call them that, sounded distant. Far off. In a way that told him that Dean was probably not in excellent condition, and if he were praying for Cas, he most likely wasn’t with Sam.  
  
The thought of Dean alone and probably injured who-knows-where threatened to make Cas dizzy with worry, so he focused instead on what he was going to do about it. He needed to find out where they were. He tried Dean’s cell phone, and then Sam’s. Both went to voicemail, which told him that they were either too busy to answer the phone, too injured, or out of service.  
  
His next step, then, was to look for any other useful information he could find in the motel room. He quickly caught sight of the map spread out on the table, with little marks all over it indicating what he thought were sites they’d planned to visit. He studied it for a moment, then rolled it up and tucked it into his coat, noting the location of the trailhead. When he arrived there, he immediately saw the Impala parked at the far end of the lot, near the trees. It was a small relief to see that he was on the right track.  
Cas tried again to locate Dean and pushed back his frustration when he couldn’t. He would just have to search for Dean manually, starting with the places marked on their map.  
  
\--  
  
Dean didn’t realize that he was praying to Cas until he said his name out loud.  
  
“’S cold out here. So freaking cold. I woulda rather died bloody than cold.”  
  
“Too bad you’re not here, Cas, ‘cause dying slowly and alone is pretty freakin’ boring, y’know? But if you were here I wouldn’t be in this mess because you’da angel-mojo’ed me outta here by now.  
  
Actually, that’s a pretty swell idea, Cas. I wouldn’t mind if you showed up and mojo’d me outta here, and you know how much I hate flying.  
  
I hate being cold more than I hate flying.”  
  
Dean stopped talking because it was too much trouble. He didn’t really feel the cold anymore, anyways which he knew was a bad thing, but the rest of him was so relieved at how warm and sleepy it was, that it didn’t really mind.  
  
\--  
  
Cas could hear Dean’s voice fading, his words slurring to the point of incoherence, and he couldn’t remember ever being more wildly desperate in his long existence. He had visited every last one of the sites on their map, and he hadn’t found either Sam or Dean. He needed to move quickly, but he had no idea where to go next.  
  
So he started to move in a grid, searching the area systematically, until he discovered a set of footprints that were approximately Dean’s size.  
  
The footprints lead in an increasingly meandering trail through the woods, and Cas followed them until he came to the edge of a small pond. Staying near the edge, he observed how the footprints made their way out onto the pond, where there had been a disturbance of the snow and ice on the surface of the pond. After that, the footsteps traced the edges and then broke a new trail back into the woods.  
  
Cas followed them, increasingly convinced that they belonged to Dean and refusing to acknowledge his terrible fear that they didn’t.  
  
Eventually, he stumbled upon Dean in the dark, propped up against a tree and covered in a thin layer of snow, and he thanked everything holy that he had been right.  
  
\--  
  
When Cas shook him awake, Dean thought he was hallucinating.  
  
“Cas, buddy, you came,” he slurred groggily. “Or I’m dead. Doesn’t matter which.” It was too much of a bother to hold his head upright, so he leaned it back against the tree, closing his eyes again.  
  
“Dean,” said Cas urgently, jostling his shoulder to regain his attention. “You aren’t dead. I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?”  
  
“Do hallucinations talk to people?” asked Dean thoughtfully.  
  
“Dean, I am not a hallucination,” insisted Cas. “I’m going to fly us back to the motel now.”  
  
“Mm,” said Dean, and Cas took it as consent and gripped his arm. A rustle of wings later, and they were both seated on one of the beds in the Winchesters’ motel room. Dean slumped without the support of the tree behind his back, and Cas held him up by the shoulders.  
  
“Hey,” complained Dean as he oriented himself to his new surroundings, “I _told_ ya I don’t like flying. Warn a guy, wouldja?”  
  
“I’m sorry Dean, but it was necessary,” explained Cas. “Your body temperature is far lower than is safe. I needed to return us both to your room.”  
  
“Return us to my room...” Dean chuckled weakly. “Very funny, Cas.”  
  
“There is nothing funny about this, Dean,” said Cas, a little more sharply than he’d intended. Dean rolled his eyes, his head lolling.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.  
  
“Dean, I need to warm you up,” said Cas hesitantly. He knew that the fastest way to warm humans up safely was with skin to skin contact, but he also knew that doing so would most likely be in violation of the personal space Dean kept telling him about. He briefly contemplated using his grace to warm Dean’s body back up, but dismissed the idea. A sudden change in temperature was not a good idea, and it was always best to let humans heal on their own, if they could.  
  
Skin to skin contact it was, then. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, but Dean was disturbingly still so he carefully hoisted Dean’s legs up onto the bed and dragged him back a little further so he could rest against the pillows at the head of the bed.  
  
Cas was exasperated when he realized that he’d forgotten about the covers, and he’d have to move Dean all over again. With a small sigh he gathered Dean up in his arms, and pulled the covers back. Settling Dean on the sheets, he turned his attention to his clothing.  
  
The coat was the hardest to get off. It was bulky and waterlogged and Cas struggled with it for several minutes before he managed to peel it off and dump it in a heap on the floor. He was inordinately grateful to find that, under the coat, Dean was wearing a button-down in his usual plaid. Cas fumbled with the buttons in his haste, then slid a hand under Dean’s back and lifted him up so he could remove both the button down and his undershirt.  
  
“Undressing me already, Cas?” Dean murmured. “I figured you’d be a lil more romantic but can’t complain...”  
  
Cas stared at him for a moment and contemplated not answering, but then scrambled for something to say. Dean was awake, and talking to him. That was good.  
  
“The faster I get your wet clothes off, the faster you’ll get warm,” said Cas, tugging at Dean’s shoelaces. Dean just laughed disjointedly.  
  
“Gotta say, never figured you’d undress me quite like this....”  
  
“Dean, I assure you, this is in your best interest. I’m sorry it has to be like this, but it is the best for –“  
  
“Getting me warm, yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted him drowsily.  
  
“Dean, I need to remove your pants,” said Cas, fumbling with his belt buckle. “Can you lift your hips for me?”  
  
Dean laughed again, and tried to comply but only really succeeded in flopping around a bit. Cas didn’t say anything more about it, just sighed and slid his hand under Dean’s lower back to lift him up.  
  
Instead of removing Dean’s underwear, Cas used a touch of his grace to dry them, and then carefully pulled the comforter up and tucked it around his shoulders. Dean was no longer talking to him, and seemed to be half asleep.  
  
Suddenly, the next part seemed a lot more daunting. Cas had rarely had reason to remove Jimmy’s clothes, and he tugged at his tie nervously. In a jerky movement, he shrugged off the tan trench coat, and then returned his attention to the tie, fingers struggling with the knot until he managed to loosen it and pull it from his neck. He dropped it on top of his coat. His shirt was next, and he added it to the heap. He started unbuckling his belt before he realized that his shoes needed to come first, and he hopped around awkwardly on one foot, trying to remove his shoes, and then his socks. Finally, his pants were at the top of the pile.  
  
It hadn’t been often that he saw his vessel naked –or nearly – and Cas felt strangely self-conscious. He didn’t take too long to look at himself, though. Instead, he drew back the comforter and shyly climbed into bed next to Dean.  
  
Cas was absolutely certain at this point that he was breaking Dean’s rules of personal space and he dreaded to think what Dean would say when he woke up. But Dean was lying next to him, dazed and delirious, and Cas scooted closer. Dean made a soft little noise and immediately curled into him. Cas rolled onto his side and found himself with an armful of very cold, very cuddly Dean Winchester. He tentatively draped an arm over Dean’s side and wrapped it around his chest. He had to get Dean warm, and only proximity would get Dean warm. This was no time for him to be squeamish about personal space.  
  
Dean settled into Cas’s embrace readily and happily, and Cas only wished that he were as comfortable. He knew that it wasn’t really Dean, that he was mostly asleep and probably in a fair amount of pain, and that he probably had no idea just who he was cuddled up in bed with. Cas took deep breaths and tried to relax and enjoy it while it lasted.  
  
\--  
  
When Dean woke up, he was both extremely comfortable and in considerable pain. It was an interesting juxtaposition.  
  
Taking further inventory of his surroundings without opening his eyes just yet, he took a moment to appreciate how warm he was. There was a sharp, lingering pain when he tried to move his fingers, and his whole body ached something fierce. Despite the pain, he was pleasantly sluggish and relaxed. Sighing and shifting a little, he became aware of the arm draped across his waist and the hand curled into his chest. No wonder he was so warm and comfortable.  
  
Reaching for the hand on his chest, he entwined their fingers together, brought them to his mouth, and nuzzled into the palm, placing tender, gentle kisses on it. He mapped out each finger, and then moved his attention down the wrist.  
  
It was only then that he noticed the person behind him had stiffened uncomfortably, and it occurred to him that although he wasn’t sure who exactly he was spooning with, he was sure that he felt very safe with them. It was strange, really – well, strange was an understatement for someone who grew up in the hunting life, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to be upset when he felt so secure. Instead, he kept their fingers twined together as he twisted around to find himself face to face with a fairly alarmed looking Cas.  
  
“Good morning,” he said with a charming smile. Cas tilted his head to the side a little, and replied with a weak, “good morning, Dean.”  
  
“So, uh,” said Dean, suddenly missing the use of his hand where he normally would have used it to gesture, “What happened?”  
  
“From what I can tell,” replied Cas, choosing his words carefully, “You were wandering around in the forest and you fell into a pond and nearly froze to death.”  
  
“Hey, I don’t just ‘wander’ around the woods,” objected Dean. “I was surveying the area.”  
  
“I see,” said Cas, sounding unimpressed. There was a silence that lasted for a moment too long before Dean picked up the conversation again, changing the topic.  
  
“Right. Speaking of, where’s Sammy?” Dean asked. Cas tensed.  
  
“I don’t... know,” he said hesitantly. “I didn’t find him when I was searching for you, and he has been out of cell range all night. But I haven’t heard anything from him, either, so it would be my assumption that he is in good health.”  
  
Dean frowned. “Sammy can look after himself, or we wouldn’t have split up in the first place, but I probably ought to go looking for him.” He paused, shifting to make eye contact with Cas and tilting his head just a fraction.  
  
“Wait, is that how you found me? I was praying?”  
  
“Yes,” replied Cas, averting his eyes. “You don’t remember?”  
  
“Oh,” said Dean, raising his eyebrows in a fairly dumbstruck way. “No. Well, then. Um, I really should go make sure that Sam hasn’t been eaten.”  
  
“Well,” said Cas. “I’m not sure whether you’ll be, ah, up to that. I understand that dramatic changes in temperature can have a lasting effect on the human body and I assume you’re in some manner of pain that you’re not telling me about.”  
  
Dean winced.  
  
“If you stay here and recuperate, I will go search for Sam.” Cas started to pull away from Dean and untangle their fingers.  
  
“Wait,” said Dean, grabbing at his hand. “Uh, thanks Cas.”  
  
Cas’s gaze softened visibly. “You’re welcome, Dean,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a little in a small smile.  
  
Dean’s phone went off from where Cas had placed it on the nightstand, and Cas reached for it and handed it to Dean, who smiled broadly.  
  
“Ah,” he said, “speak of the devil. Sam sent me a text, says he found a group of hikers and he’s escorting them off the mountain like the gentleman he is. Should be back here later this afternoon.”  
  
“I’m glad to hear that he’s well,” said Cas, moving to sit up.  
  
“You, uh,” Dean cleared his throat. “You don’t have to go just yet.”  
  
Cas went very still, waiting to see what Dean would do next.  
  
“This is, uh, nice,” Dean continued hesitantly.  
  
“Yes... it is,” agreed Cas, and Dean smiled at him.  
  
“Come on then,” urged Dean. “Relax.”  
  
As if to give Cas an example, Dean flopped back down onto the mattress and stretched his shoulders, wiggling a little bit until he got comfortable. He gave Cas a moment, during which he was hyper aware of Cas hesitantly lying back down, still tense. He counted to five, which was long enough, and turned to face Cas.  
  
“Relax, Cas,” he encouraged. “Really. This is supposed to be nice.”  
  
“It is... pleasant,” admitted Cas, frowning a little.  
  
“Good,” said Dean, burying his face in the pillow and sighing. He still hadn’t let go of Cas’s hand. He just stayed like that for a moment, feeling Cas slowly relax next to him.  
  
“All right, if you don’t mind, I need my hand back for a minute,” said Dean. He hated to break the moment, but the angle at which he was twisting his wrist to hold Cas’s hand was starting to hurt.  
  
“Ah, of course,” said Cas, releasing his hand immediately. Dean rotated his wrist, rubbing it.  
  
“Did I hurt you?” asked Cas, sounding unduly worried.  
  
“Nah,” said Dean immediately. “It’s all good. Pretty sure you could give it a kiss to make it better though.”  
  
Cas just raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean shrugged good naturedly. “Hey, it was worth a try.”  
  
After a moment of hesitation, Cas reached for his wrist. Dean allowed him to pull it towards him. Slowly and deliberately, Cas leaned down to press his lips to Dean’s wrist.  
  
This was suddenly a lot more intimate than it had been to begin with. Dean swallowed something that wasn’t nerves, precisely. He met Cas’s eyes and for a long moment, they just looked at each other.  
  
Then they were both leaning forward and awkwardly bumping faces and it was awkward but not uncomfortably so, and Dean laughed and then kissed Cas soundly on the mouth.  
  
Cas made a sound that was almost surprised, but a moment later his hands had found Dean’s face with an astounding sense of purpose and Dean was overwhelmed with affection for him. He broke off the kiss, still laughing a little and smiling in that way that made the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle, and rested their foreheads together. He dropped a kiss on Cas’s nose, and then stole a few more.  
  
“What do you say we go back to sleep?”  
  
“If you wish,” murmured Cas, and Dean sighed happily. He really was fatigued and sore after yesterday, and nothing sounded better to him right then than a good, sleepy cuddle.  
  
“You’re the best, Cas,” muttered Dean drowsily, and Cas pulled him closer, draping an arm over his middle again.  
  
“Good night, Dean,” whispered Cas, kissing his temple and completely ignoring the fact that it was ten o’clock in the morning.


End file.
